The Other Story
by anastasia 1234
Summary: During Season 11, we all witness the conflict going on between the two very different characters, Tucker and Wash. They seem to always be at odds with the other. This is a series of all connected one-shots that show the complex relationship between the ex-freelancer and alien ambassador and how slowly, they learn the others story. Rated M to be safe. Tuckington eventual romance.
1. Chapter 1: Unmasked

**Hey Guys! So this is a series of one-shots or ficlets that are all together, but not exactly one whole story either. It's more like different chapters and events that happen throughout Season 11 before everything goes down. **

**I do not own characters or anything. All rights go to creators of Halo and RoosterTeeth**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Unmasked_

After everything he'd been through and witnessed between the Red's and Blue's, he really shouldn't have been that surprised. Yet he couldn't help looking between them incredulously as the awkward silence settled between them.

"...You're kidding me...right?"

They all looked between each other before Simmons spoke with a shrug. "Well, it never really seemed important to us before. I mean think about it, we just stood at opposite ends of a canyon and tried to kill each other."

Wash shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, yeah I get _that, _but...you guys have _seriously _never seen each other without armor on? You've known each other for years!"

"Dude, of course we've never seen the Red's without armor. It's not like we waltzed over to the other side of the canyon and asked to see them without their armor on," Tucker explained.

The ex-freelancer rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling strangely out of place in just a gray t-shirt, black sweats, and sneakers as everyone around him stood in full heavy artillery. His own features were for everyone to see; corn-silk blonde spiked hair, steely green-grey eyes, and well-formed muscles on his arms and calves, with a glaze of faint freckles across his skin. Rubbing his forehead in exasperation, Wash sighed. These people would never cease to amaze him in the most ridiculous ways.

"Okay, well, today we are doing warm ups without armor to increase endurance without the excess weight, as well as learn to defend yourself without the extra protection. So...start...taking it off."

He could feel the gazes pin him in place at his choice of words, only this time, there was no armor to stop them from seeing any color rise to his cheeks, but he kept a straight face and steadily gazed back.

Donut, of course, responded with enthusiasm. "Okay! Boy, now these great legs will be for everyone to see!"

Placing his gun down on a nearby rock, his hands reached for the latches on his suit as he began to enthusiastically hum with every unbuckled clasp. "How exciting is this!"

"Whoa! Donut!" Simmons cried. "You don't strip out here in the open! Geez, let's each go back to our bases and change."

Donut halted in his endeavors. "Oh...alright then!"

Hastily, he ran off as the rest turned to Wash, who was about ready to cut the circulation off from half his face by pinching the bridge of his nose so hard. "Okay guys, do what Simmons said. Be back here in three minutes sharp, and if you're not here, I'll personally come and find you myself. Alright?"

A grumble of agreements came before everyone turned and headed off, leaving the ex-agent to run his hands through his hair as he sighed once more. Really, what was he going to do with these guys? They were just so...something. He didn't even know. They were idiots, but almost in an endearing way. Yet they weren't incompetent. He was well aware of that fact after having been defeated by them himself, as well as watching them take on an army of Tex's, and the Meta.

Still...there were times when they didn't seem to comprehend common sense.

"Alright Wash, so what exercises are we going to be doing?"

The blonde snapped to attention, realizing he'd been lost in thought for awhile now as he turned to an approaching blonde haired shorter man. He had sky blue eyes, a youthful, almost boyish face, and wore a white tank top with disturbingly short pink gym shorts.

Without even registering the voice, Wash could already identify this character.

"Just wait a minute Donut, we need to wait for the others."

Donut gasped, dramatically bringing a hand to his chest. "Wow, you're so perceptive! How'd you know it was me?"

Wash's eyes flickered down to the pink shorts and winced, before looking back up. "Uh, lucky guess..."

"Alright! We're ready!"

Thankful for the distraction, Washington turned to the group of four men that walked over, his eyes widening at the sight.

_What the...?_

Not only did everyone look completely different than he had ever perceived, but he couldn't tell who was who...not to mention, the tallest had metal parts to his body; And the shortest had strange surgery stretch marks over parts of his arm. Just what the fu...

The cyborg spoke suddenly, sighing heavily and crossing his arms. "I'm really beginning to think that this was a bad idea."

"Yeah, quit staring dude. It's unsettling," the shortest spoke, and Wash felt relief at the recognition that sparked through him from their voices. Simmons seemed to be the part-metal man, with long limbs, short red curly hair, pale features, and hazel eyes. Grif, who stood beside him in bored stance, had light brown hair and stubble, a bit of a pudgy figure, brown eyes, and deep toned skin that clashed with a stitched line across his shoulder blade, and skin that was stark white from his thumb to his elbow.

"Sorry, it's just...uh...what happened to you guys?"

Grif and Simmons shared a look and turned to Wash.

"Well, there was a bit of an accident when we were stationed at Blood Gulch. Sarge had to give us surgery," the usually maroon-plaited soldier explained. "Basically, I ended up part robot..."

"And I ended up part...Simmons," Grif finished lamely.

There was a pregnant pause between them as Wash stared blankly in their direction. He opened his mouth once to comment, but shut it just as quickly for lack of better to say, before turning to the final two figures with an analytically trained eye.

_So this must be Tucker and Caboose..._

One had blonde hair, darker than Donut's or his own, but still vibrantly yellow, with big green eyes that were wide and child-like. He had a dopey smile on his pink lips as he bounced on the balls of his feet; a movement that looked awkward for his broad shouldered body.

Finally, the last figure was around his own height, but his skin seemed to be a natural bronze in color, as though the sun had permanently kissed his flesh. Raven black hair fell just passed his ears and over his brows, he was lean but had muscle. But what caught the ex-freelancer's eye the most, is that contrasting to his ebony hair and tan skin, the soldier's eyes were a bright cyan blue and seem to crackle with electricity.

Overall, he had to admit...he was quite handsome.

_This...isn't what I expected._

Quickly, Wash recovered by clearing his throat.

"Alright, which of you is which?" He asked, looking between his two teammates, and still finding it very odd about just how different seeing behind each mask made things.

The banana-blonde turned to his friend with sudden wide and concerned eyes, whispering not-so quietly. "Tucker! Something is wrong with Wash! He doesn't recognize us. Quick! We must help him remember!"

He turned back to Wash and leaned forward hopefully. "Ag-ent Wash-ing-tub. We. Are. Your. Friends." He began to punctuate his every word as though he spoke to one that was hard of hearing.

"It's not obvious?" the second man turned to him, arching his dark brow challengingly as Wash gave an exasperated sigh with a light chuckle.

"Well, now it is. Caboose, I'm fine. Trust me, I know who both of you are."

"Hey Tucker," Grif turned to him with his eye brows drawn together. "I thought you were black...?"

Tucker narrowed his eyes at him. "What made you think that?"

The red soldier frowned deeper. "I dunno, it was just tossed around a lot and you never said you weren't."

"I never said I was either. And besides, who says I still ain't?"

Now it was Simmons turn to get confused. "What?"

Tucker rolled his aqua eyes. "I'm half black you dumb asses. That's why I've got skin like a Greek god. I'm bronze and _be_-autiful." He finished this sentence with a cheeky grin as he jerked his bangs from his eyes.

Simmons scoffed. "And don't forget have an ego the size of Grif."

"Yeah!" the orange soldier chirped in agreement before fully registering the comment. "...Wait a minute...hey!"

"You guys!" Wash shook his head at their stressful antics. "We're here to train and do drills! Not discuss Tucker's looks, ego, or anyone's size. Now can we get back to..."

"I think you look great Tucker!" Donut interrupted obliviously. "You almost look like caramel! I could lick you right up!"

Everyone looked to Donut with a bit of disturbance at his blatant comment. He had a way of just making things uncomfortable.

"Yeah..." Tucker stretched the word. "Let's get back to whatever it is we're all here for again."

Wash exhaled heavily through his nose.

_This is going to take longer than I thought._


	2. Chapter 2: Safe and Sound

_Notes: Disclaimer to Roosterteeth._

_The song is Safe and Sound cover by Sam Tsui. I suggest listening to it while reading xD_

_Enjoy!_

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_Safe and Sound_

The fading sun set an ashen gray shade over the entire canyon, with the weakening light and condensing clouds, it looked as though it might rain; although the weather patterns were unfamiliar, due to it being foreign terrain.

Wash stood just outside of the Blue Base below the mouth of the doorway, running a nightly checklist through his head to ensure all was where and as it should be. From across the canyon, he could here the familiar sound of Grif and Simmons bickering without pause, Sarge shouting commands to quiet them, and Donut making casual inappropriate commentary from the sidelines.

Letting his green-gray eyes scan the setting before him one last time, he turned and headed into the base to check up on his own teammates. Winding his way through their make-shift home, Wash breathed out a weary sigh. He cared for his team's well being, he really did. But sometimes, they were difficult to work with.

Caboose was, well, Caboose. Oblivious to the severity of most situations, but had days where he was severely upset about the absence of Church. He listened to most orders, but often needed aid in carrying them out due to lack of understanding just what it is he was supposed to do.

Then there was Tucker, who didn't care, didn't want to listen, and most of all, didn't like to follow orders. Whatever it was he was doing, he was defiant in doing so. Though he seemed capable enough, the cyan soldier refused to do anything without complaint or rebellion. He frustrated Wash beyond most anyone's capabilities, as he seemed to have a personal vendetta against him that the ex-freelancer just could not figure out.

Still, they were trying. In some ways, and at this point, it was a start.

The blonde neared the door to where the other two members of blue team were staying, despite Tucker's protests of rooming with Caboose, whom he claims _'snores like a fuckin' ox, and won't stop talking about Church as though the guy shits rainbows'. _

However, the alternative was bunking with Wash, who refused to room with anyone due to his own midnight habit of waking in cold sweat from nightmares. No one could see him like that. He refused to be caught in such a vulnerable position.

And so, he had sternly ordered no further complaints about the bunking order, and received an ice-dagger glare from Tucker before the Private turned and stalked away.

Approaching the door quietly, Wash hesitantly peeked through the crack and observed the sight before him. Two small cots, each made of blankets and materials scrapped from the crash sight, were pushed to the wall on opposite ends of the room. Caboose, huge as he was, draped completely over his own yet didn't complain. He was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, as it seemed Tucker had given him one of his own, and lay facing his friend.

"Psst. Tucker. Tucker. Tucker. Tuck..."

"Mmf, what Caboose?" Tucker mumbled, his back to the rest of the room as he faced the wall. Only a thin scratchy blanket covered his figure, adorning sweats and a cotton T-shirt that no doubt would be stripped in the middle of the night for Wash to find him nude the next morning. The ex-freelancer rolled his eyes at this thought and continued to watch the scene before him.

Caboose paused before speaking, almost hesitantly, which was strange, for he usually spoke his thoughts outright without thinking before hand.

"...Would you sing to me? Like you used to for Junior and I? I'd really like that."

Wash frowned. _Who's Junior?And Tucker?..._Sing _for them?_

He watched as Tucker slowly turned and faced Caboose, sitting up in his make-shift bed and staring at him with a penetrating gaze. "...Are you serious?"

The blue soldier, oblivious to the incredulous tone of the other's voice, smiled happily. "Yes. Yes I would like that very much."

The cyan soldier sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're going to keep bugging me till I do, won't you?"

"Yeeaaah. Most likely."

Tucker shook his head with a breathy chuckle as he flipped the blanket off his legs and strode over towards Caboose's bed, grabbing a cracked yet useable chair and setting it at his bedside. Flopping down in the seat, he heaved a sigh once more and turned reluctantly to his friend.

"Alright Caboose, what song do you wanna hear?"

"Ooh! Ooh! The kinda sad but happy one! And-"

"No, Caboose, I will not tickle your arm. I'm not fucking touching you. Now just close your eyes and I'll start okay?"

Like a little kid, the large soldier nodded eagerly and burrowed further into his covers, letting his large hazel eyes flutter shut.

Wash still stood outside the door, watching this entire interaction with new intrigue. Since when were these two even semi-friends?

_Since their leader ditched them dickhead, _a voice spoke in his head. He pushed the thought away and peered even closer through the crack of the doorway. He didn't know what to expect from Tucker singing, and so was thoroughly surprised when the raven haired soldier clasped his hands together, leaned forward with elbows to his knees, and opened his mouth as a sensual sound came from his lips.

_I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'd never let you go,_

_and all those shadows almost killed your light. _

_I remember you said 'don't leave me here alone'._

_But all that's dead and gone and past, tonight._

_Just close your eyes,_

_the sun is going down._

_You'll be alright,_

_no one can hurt you now._

_Come morning light, _

_you and I'll be safe,_

_and,_

_sound._

Wide gray eyes observed Tucker as he sang soothingly into the night. His voice was soft and well pitched. Falling into the tune, Wash leaned against the wall.

_Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire._

_The world outside our door keeps raging on._

_Hold on to this lullaby._

_Even when the music's gone._

_Gone._

_Just close your eyes,_

_the sun is going down._

_You'll be alright,_

_no one can hurt you now._

_Come morning light, _

_you and I'll be safe,_

_and,_

_sound._

He began humming, the sound reverberating from his chest.

_Just close your eyes,_

_the sun is going down._

_You'll be alright,_

_no one can hurt you now._

_Come morning light, _

_you and I'll be safe,_

_and,_

_sound._

_Sound._

Humming once more, Tucker's song soon began to fade. Slowly, he stood and backed away from a now snoring Caboose, pulling the chair against the wall and quietly falling back on his own cot again.

And just like that all was silent.

Wash could feel his own heartbeat in his ears as he backed away from the doorway and began a slow trek back to his own quarters. His mind was racing, grasping for a word to describe the events that he had witnessed just previously.

_Wow. _

He had no idea. No idea Tucker could sing like that. No idea his two teammates had something like that. Never in his freelancer years did he see such things between partners. Tucker. _Tucker _had just sang Caboose asleep.

Something in that warmed his chest.

Stepping into his own room, Wash looked around. It suddenly looked so empty. So bare and hollow. No one else, just Wash and four walls.

Heaving a sigh, the blonde proceeded to curl up in his bed and press his eyes shut. He held onto Tucker's song, his voice, hoping that when sleep took him, no nightmares would ebb there way through again.

_Please, _he thought, _not again._


	3. Chapter 3: Try a Smile

_Try a Smile_

"I hear you sometimes...singing at night."

"...Yeah? I hear you screaming."

The two weren't even facing one another, each without armor. Tucker was sitting on the roof of Blue base, cleaning his rifle thoroughly upon demand from Wash, when the ex-freelancer himself came and now stood behind him, his intrigue pulling at him to ask the questions that had been bouncing around his mind for days now.

However, the response referring to his nightmares caught him off guard and left him silent, mind buzzing.

_What? How could he have heard that? _

As though hearing his thoughts, Tucker continued. "I'm an insomniac, Wash. Have been since Carolina-the-crazy had us trekking nonstop just to get everywhere. Just so happens, I also have ears."

Wash remained silent for a moment, taking this information in and processing it. So, Tucker had insomnia. Was he getting enough sleep at night?

The blonde quickly shook the concern away. He needed to focus. He came here to ask questions that he'd been curious about, not be put on the spot about his slight PTSD symptoms.

"Who's Junior?"

At once, Tucker halted in his endeavors, hands coming to a full stop.

When it looked as though he wouldn't answer, Wash continued. "I heard you talking to Caboose the other night, something about singing the two of them to sleep. But you've never mentioned Junior before."

The teal soldier remained still for a few more moments before heaving a sigh and slumping in his seat. Slowly, he continued polishing his weapon.

"...He's my son."

"...What?!"

Finally, Tucker pulled himself to his feet and faced the blonde as he spoke, a fond smile pulling at his lips and showing those too-white teeth of his. "Dude, it's a long story, but basically, I got a parasitic embryo from this huge alien who Caboose befriended, got pregnant, gave birth to my alien kid."

Wash could only blink as his tone fell flat in disbelief. "You're kidding."

Tucker, despite the tension between them, laughed at the freelancer's reaction to his story. Wash took it upon himself to observe that laugh. It was kinda...perfect. His sharp jawline and facial features revealed a single dimple in his left cheek, as his pitch bounced about in an oddly appealing fashion.

"Dude, if you think _that's _the strangest thing that's ever happened to us, you won't last long around here."

As the raven haired soldier continued to chuckle, Wash tilted his head curiously. "So, where is he now then? Junior, I mean."

Tucker's chortles came to a halt, and gray eyes observed that the smile placed on his handsome face was now strained. He was pretty good at hiding it, but Wash had a trained eye, and observed how the other man's own eyes seemed to hollow out at the mention of his son's misplacement.

"Well, the last time I saw him," he began tapping his chin, searching his memories, "I was holding off C.T's army and letting him escape out the temple so he could get to safety and hopefully get to a Command center. We had been in the desert for four months by that time after a lot of traveling, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold them off, so I wanted him to get to safety and get relocated to another dig center to keep the peace between the humans and aliens. About a month after he left, that's when Caboose, Sarge and Grif finally showed up."

Wash didn't even have time to flinch at the reminder of C.T, for his thoughts were in rapid concession and pounded in his head. Opening his mouth several times, he tried to find the right words, when finally, four of them blurted forth.

"I don't get it."

Tucker raised a brow. "What's not to get?"

"_You_! I hear all these stories! About how you were the first to know the Red and Blue battle was a lie, I've seen you fight the Meta and Tex robots. Church told me that you were able to outsmart and kill Wyoming, and you're telling me now, you and your _alien _kid were ambassadors for ending wars between humans and aliens, and after your entire dig team was killed, you held off a small army, locked yourself inside a temple, and managed to radio for help."

"...Yeah? So?"

Wash through up his hands. This was ridiculous. Of course, Washington himself as a freelancer had done just as dangerous, if not more precarious missions on the field, but he was an _Agent. _A trained soldier. Not a simulation one who spent the first three years of his military career standing around a dry desert canyon, bickering with another blue guy. Yet Tucker managed to accomplish all these feats, heck _every _one of the reds and blues had managed to do things that _should _have been unlikely, if not impossible.

Yet he couldn't see it. Sure, the teal soldier was all big talk about being hot with the ladies, and claimed to be a lover more than anything else. But could he _not _see his potential? He could be a soldier, rise and be one of the best. Wash could teach him all he knew, but he still resists to learn _anything._

"Tucker..." Wash stressed his name, "why is it, you managed to do all of _that, _but complain to hell and back till my ears bleed when I ask for a simple one hundred squats?!"

There was silence as the two men stared at one another, Wash with waiting eyes, and Tucker's blank expression, save for the crease between his brows and flickering gaze as he seemed to be considering the question.

"I guess...I just had something to fight for then."

The blonde arched both brows in surprise as Tucker continued.

"I mean, all those times, it was either protecting my kid, protecting my friends, or just plain trying to survive. I had a reason to fight, so I did."

Wash resisted the urge to outright gape. That had to be one of the most serious and downright deep things he had ever heard Tucker say.

"Plus, being a bad-ass always gains good attention from the ladies, booyah!"

_Aaand, there it went. But still...something to fight for, hm?_

They stood in silence now, both peering out toward the rest of the canyon, shoulder to shoulder, each lost in their own thoughts. Wash was still replaying the conversation over in his head, noting things about Tucker he hadn't known before, and he had a feeling with just a side glance to the man beside him, that Tucker's mind was still on Junior.

Finally, Wash broke the silence, his voice low. "You have potential, Private. We just need better cooperation between us and mayb-"

"Aw, dude, not this shit again!"

Angrily, they turned to one another, each with a scowl planted on their features.

"Tucker, I'm doing what I can to help you guys! As leader of blue team-"

"And there it is again." Tucker exasperated. "Look, Wash, you want to be a good leader, why don't you _start _by being a good _friend_?"

Wash blinked. He _was _being a good friend! That's why he was trying to train them, to prepare them for whatever tomorrow brought, so they'd be ready. So they wouldn't get hurt. _God, _he didn't want them getting hurt.

But then he thought back to North and York. Okay, so maybe he _did_ have some things backwards. There was a difference between being the Leader and being a friend. And with Caboose depressed about Church, and Tucker upset too...he hadn't even bothered to comfort them in any way.

A sigh left his lips. Goddammit, he was _right._

Rubbing a hand over his face wearily, Wash turned to Tucker, who was studying him intently in waiting for a response. "Okay, fine. How do I do that?"

"What, be a friend?"

A boyish grin came upon his lips once more, that distracting smile and dimple reappearing again. Suddenly, Tucker was moving forward towards him as Wash tensed.

_What's he doing? What's he doing?!_

Next thing Wash knew, the teal soldier lifted his arms and was putting his hands to his face. On instinct, the ex-freelancer quickly clasped onto his wrists, when he then felt his cheeks being pulled and lips parted forcibly into a smile. Tucker's fingers were pulling up at the sides of his lips, as he stood before Wash and gave a cheery wink.

"Try smiling once in awhile. It's a good start."

With that, he turned and walked away, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling a tune.

Wash remained frozen where he was, hands still partly suspended in the air and a slight tautness to his cheekbones from being pulled. There was a moment of pause before a genuine smile formed on his lips, a slight laughter bubbling from his throat at the absurdity of the conversation he just had.

Really, there was no one like the reds and blues. There was no one like his teammates, the people who took him in despite his mistakes.

And he was glad for that, because he wasn't sure if he could handle any more weird than he already did.


End file.
